The Catalyst
by ProjectKITT
Summary: Injured in an accident and discovered by Autobots, the Decepticon weapons specialist finds himself under Ratchet's care. Will his interactions with the Autobot medic be enough to make Ironhide change sides? No pairings or OCs. Pre-Movieverse with elements from the Aligned continuity (Exodus and Prime).
1. Accident

_Thanks to LadyIronhide for her help and encouragement :D_

_"If your actions inspire others to dream more, learn more, do more and become more, you are a leader." –John Quincy Adams_

* * *

Ironhide idled in front of the large hangar door as it slowly slid open. He waited until it was just high enough to fit under before he rumbled through and sped off under the dark blue sky of early morning.

With the Cybertronian sun still far below the horizon, Ironhide's jet-black alt mode was almost invisible. He drove swiftly across the barren landscape, moving at speeds that belied the weight of his frame and leaving only a fleeting trail of dust behind him. Even the tracks from his heavy tread were quickly erased by the prevailing winds.

The Badlands surrounding Kaon were vast indeed. However, the battle-scarred soldier was more than familiar with the rugged terrain. He knew every mountain, every rocky outcropping, every pebble, and he could recognize them all with hardly a passing glance. He could probably even navigate the region using nothing more than the feeling of the ground under his tires, his missions placed him there so often.

This time, he was to meet up with Shockwave and a few other Decepticon scientists in Tarn. It was a drive that would take him the entire orn to complete. He had not been told what the purpose of the meeting was, but he assumed it would be something that required his skill in the field of weapons technology.

Ironhide's considerable military prowess had also helped earn him a high rank in Megatron's forces, and as a result, he collaborated with some of the top Decepticon innovators on a regular basis. He had worked with not only Shockwave, the reputedly-mad scientist, but also the explosives expert Dreadwing, and even the self-absorbed medic Knock Out from time to time. Like the three of them, Ironhide had sided with the Decepticons at the beginning of the war.

Megatron had been the first mech in decavorns to challenge the caste system and propose a better future for Cybertron. The former gladiator's revolutionary ideas had captured the attention of all those who heard them, and when the proponents of a new political system had split into two factions, most stayed with Megatron for that very reason.

Most, but not all. There were some who joined that rogue faction known as the Autobots.

Yet as unlikely as it might seem, Ironhide did not wish to fight the Autobots. He was a warrior, yes, but his motivation had always been to _protect_ life. The Autobots did not seem inherently malicious, so the conflict with them made him feel a bit... uneasy.

Of course he would never admit that to anyone. Decepticons did not express such emotions, did not show weakness in any way. Especially not commanders like himself.

No, the weapons specialist would not share his concerns. He chose instead to ponder over them as he traveled alone across the uninhabited territory.

But the region held no answers. The only thing Ironhide was sure of was that he was loyal to his cause, and that meant he would fight against the Autobots—until there was a peace agreement.

He did not know why the two factions had not yet come to an understanding. The Autobots supposedly had the same vision for Cybertronian society as Megatron did, namely a free Cybertron where every individual had the right to choose for themselves. But if that was true, why did they oppose Megatron?

What did they think they were fighting for?

_Primus knows,_ Ironhide thought dismissively as he adjusted his speed to accommodate the increasingly rocky ground. Even though the terrain did not pose much of a challenge for him—his alt mode was quite suitable for it—he would have rather traveled by ship. He could certainly make better time that way.

But ships were easier to detect on radar. And according to the Autobot-Decepticon rules of engagement, which had been agreed to by both sides, armed ships were not allowed in neutral zones.

All Decepticon ships were armed. So he was driving.

Not that he was supposed to be in the neutral zone. The route he had been given only bordered it, but he was cutting across to save time. Why his superiors had chosen such a circuitous route in the first place was a mystery. They did it every time, and usually Ironhide followed it anyway, but for this particular mission he had decided not to. After all, it was highly unlikely that he would run into any Autobots. They did not usually get so close to Decepticon territory, and had never been seen in the area that he was currently traversing.

Probably because there was nothing important to be found there, nor was there anything scenic to look at that would make the journey even mildly interesting. Not to someone who had seen it all countless times before, anyway. Everything started to look the same after a while.

Turning his attention inward, Ironhide began perusing the data files he had on the Autobots. He had comprehensive information about almost all of them. Or at the very least, all of the important ones—Soundwave's surveillance work only focused on what was useful—and even though Ironhide was taking a shortcut, he would still have plenty of time to review the files. He always found it sensible to stay current with the latest information.

The file he was reading at that moment was not new, but it was one of the ones he found the most baffling. No matter how many times he read it, he still did not understand it. Not at all.

The new Prime was a _librarian_. A data clerk from the Hall of Records! Before his association with Megatron—or Megatronus, as he was called at the time—no one had even heard of the mech. How could he possibly have what it takes to lead even a small army?

Let alone an entire civilization? If there had not been a war, that was what the librarian Orion Pax would be doing instead. Leading all of Cybertron.

Actually, the red and blue mech was not known as Orion Pax anymore. He had been given a different designation when the High Council named him Prime. What was it again? Frag, Ironhide just read the file...

Optimus. That was it.

Not that it really made much difference—no matter what the Prime was called, he was still a librarian in his spark—but for Primus' sake, was _everyone_ going to change their designation whenever they assumed a new function? Ironhide certainly hoped not. He had already updated all of his data files. _Twice._

No one else better change their designation anytime soon... The thought of updating his files a third time was almost as irritating as the sand clinging relentlessly to his fenders.

All of a sudden, Ironhide's musings were brought to an abrupt halt as his scanners detected the threat. A landmine was buried just below the ground in front of him.

Warnings flashed across his HUD and he swerved instantly, his tires kicking up a flurry of sand, but it was already too late. The device detonated with enough force to flip his alt mode and throw it into the air. The explosion also stunned him and he instinctively transformed, just finishing the sequence before crashing hard into the ground.

… … …

In the command center of the Autobot base in Iacon, Jazz was alone as he attentively watched the monitors in front of him. It was a boring job, staring at the screens all orn and waiting for something to happen, but somebody needed to keep an optic on the Decepticons. At least the silver minibot could take some solace in the fact that his duties were not ordinarily so monotonous.

Usually, the Autobots' head of intelligence would be spending his time doing things far more interesting. Things like interrogating prisoners, hacking into encrypted data networks, intercepting private comm links and then impersonating the mech that was supposed to be on the other end, or whatever else he needed to do to obtain useful information from the Decepticons. Those were Jazz's typical duties, which in reality were not typical at all. Every time was different.

Unlike the screens in front of him, which had not changed by a single pixel in the last six joors. He had even rebooted the terminal to make sure it was still sending updates to the monitors. Of course it was—there was just nothing to update.

Jazz really hoped he would not be assigned to monitor duty more often. He almost considered asking Ratchet if it was possible for a mech's processor to glitch from an overload of boredom if said mech had to... Wait, what was that? In sector 242?

It looked the same as all the other sectors, but Jazz _knew_ it had flashed for an astrosecond. He had seen it out of the corner of his optic. Or... had he? Could his mind be playing tricks on him?

Maybe he really should ask Ratchet...

And get a wrench thrown at his helm? No way! Jazz instead typed a few commands into the terminal, instructing it to set aside a recording of the sector in question over the last breem. He could review it later, but first he wanted to make sure he did not miss anything else that might suddenly appear on the screen.

Several more breems passed and nothing happened. Jazz sighed quietly, starting to wonder if he had just been seeing things. Another moment passed uneventfully before he decided to play the recording. He watched it closely, but there was nothing... No, there was something! He had seen right!

It looked like... an explosion?

What was out there that could have caused that? There was... well, not much of anything out there.

Jazz played the recording again, this time pausing it on the frame with the clearest view. That still left him with a slightly blurry satellite image, but it was the best he would get.

_What I need now,_ the silver minibot thought, _is an expert opinion._ He opened a comm link to the mech who he thought might be able to provide it.

"Hey, Wheeljack? You know a lot about explosives, right?"

_"You could say that,"_ Wheeljack replied. _"Why?"_

"I got something on one of the monitors, and I was wondering if you'd take a look at it."

_"No problem. I'll be there in a breem."_

Jazz continued to study the image until he heard Wheeljack enter the room, then he looked up as the white, red, and green engineer strolled in and moved to stand beside him. Wheeljack had not wasted any time, arriving in less than a breem.

"All right, Jazz. What did you find?"

"I'm not really sure. I was hoping you'd know." Jazz pressed a key, replaying the surveillance data. "Picked this up in a neutral zone. Looks like an explosion if you ask me, but it could've been caused by anything."

Wheeljack studied the footage carefully. "No, not anything. You're right that it's an explosion, but I can tell you it's not from a personal weapon. It would have had to have come from something bigger, like a ship or mining explosives."

Jazz considered that for a moment. "Either way, it's 'Cons doing things they shouldn't be doing. They're not supposed to have any ships out there. Or explosives."

"Yeah, like that ever stopped them." Wheeljack leaned closer to the screen before asking his colleague, "Are there any 'Con signals in the area?"

"I'm not picking up any."

"Hmm... That might just mean they're hiding them from us."

"I was thinking exactly the same thing." Jazz opened another comm link. "Optimus?"

Optimus's deep voice crackled over the private channel. _"Go ahead, Jazz."_

"We've got possible Decepticon activity in the Badlands. Permission to send someone to investigate?"

_"Permission granted. Do we have any Autobots within driving distance of the location?"_

Jazz looked up the locations of all Autobots currently on patrol. "Yeah, actually we do. Let me contact 'Bee."

… … …

Bumblebee's patrol had so far been uneventful, not that he was going to complain about that. Being in Autobot territory and not finding any signs of Decepticons was definitely a good thing. The fact that his team also had eyes in the sky helped to allay any fears the young scout may have had about missing something important. While he was good at what he did, the truth was that he had a lot of ground to cover.

Bumblebee continued driving along the empty stretch of road. It was in a region that he patrolled often, although to prevent his movements from becoming too predictable, he took different routes each time. This one was particularly devoid of other mechs, but he did not feel alone. He could see the skyline of Crystal City in the distance.

It reminded him of why he had chosen to become an Autobot. The beautiful city was—like many other places on Cybertron—teeming with innocent civilians that needed to be protected from Megatron's tyrannic rule. Bumblebee was eager to learn everything he could to help keep them safe. As many of them as possible.

_One day,_ the young scout sincerely hoped,_ I'll be skilled enough to join the warrior class..._ But he could worry about that when the time came. His primary focus had to be the present because his teammates, and Primus knows how many neutral Cybertronians, needed him to perform his duties to the best of his ability. Even though he was only a scout, others' lives could still depend on him.

It may have seemed like a heavy burden for such a young mech, but Bumblebee would not have wanted it to be any other way. It was the only way he could help save Cybertron. And besides, his brothers-in-arms were always there to offer him support when he needed it. They were truly like family.

Bumblebee was just about to head back to base when his internal comm pinged, signaling an incoming transmission from base. He accepted it right away, but did not even have time to transmit a greeting because Jazz spoke first. The silver minibot sounded excited, yet somehow just as cool and collected as always.

_"Bumblebee, you there? We picked up an unusual energy spike relatively close to your location."_

"I'm here. What kind of energy spike?" Bumblebee asked curiously.

_"Some kind of explosion. We're not sure what caused it, but Wheeljack thinks the 'Cons might be mining for energon or something."_

"Maybe, but shouldn't you be able to detect that?"

_"That's the thing. I didn't pick up any energon readings. Whatever they're doing, they must be trying to make sure we don't notice it."_

"I see. What are the coordinates?"

_"I'm sending them now."_

Bumblebee waited for the transmission to download, then he looked up the coordinates. They placed the unknown energy spike in a neutral zone bordering Decepticon territory, an area that was actually quite far from his current location.

"I'd hardly call that close, Jazz," the yellow scout teased him. "Where on Cybertron did you learn to read a map?"

That earned a chuckle from the silver minibot. _"I can read just fine, and I said 'relatively close'. Believe it or not, it's closer to you than anyone else. We've got no other 'Bots anywhere near there."_

"All right. I'll check it out," Bumblebee replied as he began plotting an appropriate course.

_"Thanks, 'Bee. Report back as soon as you find something."_

"Will do. Bumblebee out." He cut the comm link and spun around, then accelerated to a good cruising speed—one that would allow him to cover ground more quickly, but without expending too much energy.

After all, it was going to be a long drive.


	2. Capture

Ironhide groaned as he woke up. His entire frame ached, badly, and he did not even have to open his optics to know that there was a blindingly bright light somewhere above him. He could practically feel it...

And he felt like he was overheating.

He knew he was lying on his back, but he did not know where.

"Frag," he rasped, coughing harshly for a moment before falling silent. He vented deeply, keeping his optics offline as he focused on the myriad of error messages that flared red on the edges of his HUD. He initiated a self-diagnostic and quickly scanned the area around him.

Contrary to Ironhide's expectations, his scanners did not detect anything noteworthy. No other mechs, no structures... Only high amounts of ultraviolet radiation, which indicated that he was..._ outside._

It was the sun's rays that were beating down on him, causing his core temperature to rise to dangerously high levels. The effect was no doubt being intensified by the color of his armor.

_Fraggin' black pa__int!_ He turned on his cooling fans, mildly irritated that they had not come on automatically.

The relief was almost immediate and Ironhide lay still, giving his overheated systems time to cool off, before he onlined his optics. He found himself blinded by sunlight and he lifted his arm, turning his hand to block the sun, until his optics adjusted to sudden influx of light. Once they did, he focused on the environment around him, trying to ascertain why he was there.

As he looked out at the empty landscape, suddenly he remembered—he was on a mission. He was on a mission and he had run over a landmine. A Decepticon landmine.

The explosion must have offlined him.

"Ironhide to base..."

No answer.

The black mech tried again. "Decepticon base, this is Ironhide. Do you read?"

Still nothing. He huffed, noting that his comm system must be damaged.

How long had he been out, anyway? Ironhide checked his chronometer only to find that it was also not working. Concerned by that, he turned his attention to the diagnostic, frowning slightly at the results.

His communications and weapons systems were completely offline, his scanners were functioning but barely above minimum capacity, and his energon levels were critically low. There were other warnings as well, mostly cataloging the injuries he had sustained, but Ironhide ignored them. It was not like he needed the diagnostic to know he was injured—the pain was indication enough. It was getting more intense as his sensory net came fully online.

Ironhide shifted in discomfort, but that only made it worse. He bit back a pained yelp and tried to sit up, testing the limits of his damaged frame, realizing it was a mistake soon after he attempted it. He cried out softly as the pain became unbearable, and it was all he could do to ease himself back down. He vented hard, trembling until it subsided.

The sand had obviously done nothing to help break his fall, and there was no way he would be able to make it to Tarn or back to base. He was completely and utterly stranded.

_Starscream is going to hear about this_... In fact, Ironhide intended to personally give that arrogant Seeker a piece of his mind. He could do that, being of equal rank, and he knew he was not the only one who would. Megatron was certainly going to be less than pleased with the setback.

A setback that the leader of the Decepticons was not even going to know about anytime soon. Based on the sun's position, Ironhide estimated the time to be approximately mid-orn. He was not expected at the rendezvous point until past nightfall, so no one would realize anything had gone wrong until he failed to arrive. It could take joors after that for a search team to locate him, maybe longer since he was not exactly on his assigned route.

Scrap. He would just have to wait.

Ironhide evaluated the few alternatives he had available, eventually deciding that the most prudent course of action would be a partial power-down. He set his scanners to remain on high-alert and notify him of any disturbance. The fact that they were hardly functioning did not bode well for his peace of mind, but anything was better than nothing and he needed to conserve energy. It was either that or risk going into complete stasis lock before anyone found him.

That would be... humiliating. At best.

With a reluctant sigh, he shuttered his optics and initiated the power-down command.

… … …

As Bumblebee neared the coordinates, he slowed down. He would have to be more careful now—this region was littered with mines, and the Decepticons could be anywhere.

_So far, so good._ He maintained a slow pace, scanning the area as he went. _No signs of 'Cons..._

Bumblebee continued ahead until his scanners detected several bits of metal on the ground. Shrapnel maybe? He came to a stop and transformed, reaching down to pick up one of the tiny pieces. He flipped it over in his hand, examining it, and noted that there were traces of explosives on its surface.

It was definitely shrapnel. Perhaps there had been a fight of some kind?

What the fight might have been about, Bumblebee had no idea. He walked farther, following the metal shards, until his scanners picked up something else. Energon.

Then he spotted the prone form of a black Cybertronian.

The mech was lying on his back, silent and not moving, but Bumblebee did not want to risk getting too close. He took just a few steps closer, only what he needed to get close enough to scan for a spark signal. When he detected one, he knew he needed to call for backup.

"Bumblebee to base. I have something to report."

Not surprisingly, Jazz answered._ "Go ahead, Bumblebee." _

"There is a Cybertronian near my current location. I believe he's injured."

Jazz paused a moment before replying. _"All right. Can you tell if it's a neutral or a 'Con?"_

"A Decepticon I think," Bumblebee transmitted as he zoomed-in for a better view. "He's heavily armed."

_"You in any danger?"_

"I don't think so. He appears to be in stasis."

_"Okay, then just sit tight. I'll send a team to your location."_ Jazz did not need to tell him to be careful. Bumblebee was young, but competent. He would know to fall back if the situation changed.

"Got it. Bumblebee out." The scout moved a short distance away and transformed into vehicle mode, preparing to wait for the others' arrival. He was out in the open, but the sun was setting and soon he would be under the cover of darkness.

… … …

Bumblebee looked up at silvery light of Cybertron's moons. While the cool nighttime air was a welcome relief from the unforgiving heat he had dealt with earlier, he knew now was not the time to dwell on comfort. He kept his scanners focused on his surroundings, in case any other Decepticons decided to show up, and on the black mech, who had still not moved at all.

More time passed. Bumblebee was just beginning to wonder if it would be safe to approach the fallen Cybertronian when the wind picked up, diverting his attention. He quickly realized that it was not wind in the normal sense, but rather the kind of strong, steady breeze that would be caused by... a ship.

Mildly alarmed that he had not detected it earlier, Bumblebee quickly glanced skyward and was relieved to see that it was an Autobot ship, one of the smaller models that they often used for search and rescue missions. The sleek vessel was operating without navigation lights, most likely to minimize the chance of being seen from a distance. The quiet whisper of its muffled engines further corroborated an attempt at stealth. Almost soundlessly, it pivoted in midair and then gently touched down.

The yellow scout transformed as three of his teammates promptly disembarked and walked up to him. Ultra Magnus approached first, followed by Bulkhead, and then Ratchet.

After exchanging a few short greetings, Bumblebee proceeded to detail the observations he had made since arriving. He explained what he had found either by sight or through his scans, and how he had determined that the black Cybertronian had been the victim of a landmine and that the mech was almost certainly a Decepticon, but until they got closer, they could not know for sure.

Ratchet was the first to ask, "Where is he?"

"Over there." Bumblebee pointed to where the Cybertronian lay motionless in the sand.

"All right," Ultra Magnus said as he powered up his weapon. "Bulkhead, circle around the far side. Ratchet, come with me."

Bumblebee wanted to stay out of the way so he did not follow, although he did attentively watch as Bulkhead circled wide around the black Cybertronian and Ultra Magnus approached more directly.

Ratchet followed close behind Ultra Magnus as they approached the seemingly-unconscious mech. When they reached him, the Autobot commander held out his arm, signaling the medic not to move ahead. They could now clearly see the Decepticon emblem forged on his chest.

Several more seconds passed and the Decepticon gave no indication of coming online. Ultra Magnus lowered his arm and Ratchet gingerly stepped forward, activating his medical scanner. A basic scan confirmed that the Decepticon was indeed in stasis, and not just feigning such a condition in an attempt to deceive them.

"He's offline," the medic said softly. Ultra Magnus and Bulkhead kept their weapons on standby as Ratchet knelt down to get a better look at the Decepticon's injuries.

His pitch-black armor was stained with energon, and he was even then losing more as it trickled from several cut lines that had yet to seal themselves. Ratchet reached for one of them, and gently touched it. As soon as he did, they all heard the unmistakable hum of systems coming online.

Ratchet was already moving to back up but the Decepticon onlined quickly, glancing at him with vivid red optics for less than a second before he harshly pushed the medic away, knocking the stocky Autobot back a few steps.

"Get back, Ratch!" Bulkhead yelled as he and Ultra Magnus lunged forward, swiftly pinning the Decepticon's arms to the ground. The injured mech struggled to get out of their grip, but they overpowered him with ease.

"Release me, Autobot punks!"

"Stand down!"

Ultra Magnus's order only made the Decepticon fight harder.

"Give it up, 'Con! You're outnumbered!" Bulkhead transformed one hand into a battle mace as a warning, but the tenacious Decepticon did not even seem to notice.

But it did not matter. Bulkhead could tell that the mech was tiring fast and would not be able to fight much longer.

… … …

It was dark outside when Ironhide's scanners abruptly woke him. Someone was there, dangerously close.

A chartreuse mech whom he did not recognize.

As his vision came into focus, he realized that the mech was an Autobot.

He had to defend himself. Gathering what strength he could, he shoved the Autobot back.

He heard a yell, and suddenly his arms were pinned to the ground. He was being restrained by two other Autobots.

Ironhide grunted, struggling against their hold. Under normal circumstances, he would have had almost no trouble dispatching two mechs, but the loss of energon was taking a heavy toll on his strength. The Autobots held him down as if it required no effort at all.

He snarled, "Release me, Autobot punks!"

"Stand down!" the blue mech—whom Ironhide now recognized as Ultra Magnus—demanded.

Ironhide knew that Ultra Magnus was second in command to Optimus Prime, and the leader of an Autobot special ops team called the Wreckers. The other mech pinning him down, the bulky green one, was most likely a member of the Wreckers.

It would be impossible to fend them off, but Ironhide was not inclined to give up. He fought harder, desperately trying to free himself.

"Give it up, 'Con! You're outnumbered!"

Ironhide's vents were heaving from the effort, and only another handful of seconds passed before he needed to stop. The additional strain, as short-lived as it was, had proven to be too much for his already overtaxed systems.

Seeing that the Decepticon was for the moment incapable of fighting, Ultra Magnus called out, "Doctor!"

So they had brought a medic... _Probably to incapacitate me,_ the weapons specialist thought derisively as he continued to pant. Too exhausted to do anything else, he only tensed weakly as the chartreuse mech knelt beside him and cut the control wiring for his cannons.

Ironhide had no other weapons, having never needed any. The Autobots must have assumed as much because the two holding him down then disarmed their blasters, apparently deeming that physical force would be enough to subdue him should he try anything untoward.

Then the medic stood and accessed something on his forearm, shifting his focus away from the Decepticon. Ironhide relaxed slightly and looked away, only to stiffen when he felt the tingle of a medical scan brush over his frame.

The medic analyzed the readings quickly, but thoroughly. Then he knelt down again and began working to stabilize the Decepticon's condition. Ironhide flinched at the medic's touch, but made no move to pull away. He did not have the strength, and so he silently resigned himself to whatever the Autobot might do.

As the medic continued to patch the worst of the damage, a fourth Autobot wandered over to observe the unusual scene with curiosity. The medic addressed him without even looking up from his work.

"Bumblebee, get my medical kit please. And bring the ship closer."

"You got it, Ratch!" The yellow mech scampered off, seeming excited to have been given an opportunity to fly the ship.

The wind picked up as the ship moved to a closer location. The Autobots shielded themselves and the injured Decepticon from the flying sand that was briefly stirred up by its engines.

Then the scout returned with the requested medical kit. The medic accepted it gratefully, and obtained what he needed to brace Ironhide's ankle. It did not take him long to finish.

"All right, I've done what I need to here. Let's move him." The medic positioned himself to support Ironhide's right side, while the green Wrecker moved to the left. "Easy, Bulkhead. On three. One... Two... Three."

Ironhide tensed as the two Autobots lifted him off the ground, though he relaxed somewhat as they carried him to a miniature yet fully-equipped med bay in the hold of the ship. They carefully laid him on a berth and he blinked dazedly, feeling like he might pass out at any moment and not really caring if he did.

A sharp prick in Ironhide's wrist reminded him that he was still awake. He winced as the medic gently pushed the needle deeper, piercing an energon line underneath the black armor panels, then taped it in place. The other Autobots restrained Ironhide to the berth with stasis cuffs, but it was not done in a way that caused any unnecessary discomfort. The weapons specialist was inwardly relieved at that.

Once the Decepticon was secure, Bumblebee and the one called Bulkhead vacated to the front of the ship. Ultra Magnus stayed behind to query the medic.

"What is his status?"

The medic wearily lifted his blue optics to meet his commander's gaze before answering. "He has sustained multiple serious injuries, most notably a fractured pelvis and the resulting loss of energon. His ankle is also broken. I've started him on an energon drip, infused with a light sedative. He is reasonably alert and his condition is currently stable. I will have a full report ready by the time we land."

"Understood." Ultra Magnus stepped away from the berth. "Thank you, Doctor."

The medic lowered his gaze respectfully and nodded in reply. Ultra Magnus then departed to pilot the vessel, leaving the medic and his patient alone in the hold of the ship.

Ironhide watched idly as the medic continued running tests on him, likely evaluating his response to treatment. He still felt drained, but getting some energon in his tanks was helping with that.

It did not mean he felt like drawing the Autobot's attention, so when the medic stepped back to analyze the test results, Ironhide began absently staring at ceiling. The room was silent except for the sound of the medic's stylus as he quietly scribbled on a datapad.

Autobot ships must have good soundproofing, the weapons specialist thought, because he could not hear any sounds from the outside.

Even after the medic moved to stand beside the berth again, Ironhide kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling above. He knew that the chartreuse mech was now openly studying him, but he did not care and so he said nothing. He did not feel like talking, and he doubted that the Autobot had anything to say to him anyway.

It soon became clear that he had misjudged, because the medic did break the lengthy silence.

"My designation is Ratchet. I am an Autobot field medic." Ratchet paused expectantly, as if waiting for a reply, but Ironhide only looked at him.

Concluding that the Decepticon was not going to say anything to that, Ratchet spoke again. "Would you mind telling me your designation?"

The question sounded sincere, rather than rude, and Ironhide briefly wondered if the medic was attempting to foster a rapport with him. Although not without suspicion, the weapons specialist did feel decidedly less guarded now that he was no longer surrounded by Autobot warriors. He shifted his gaze to nothing in particular as he took a moment to consider his reply.

Why would the medic want to know his designation? It was not like he needed it to do his job. For all Ironhide knew, the mech—Ratchet—only wanted the information to give to his superiors. What reason did Ironhide have to willingly provide it?

But then again, it would only be a matter of time before the Autobots did identify him. Was there really any point in delaying the inevitable? And Ratchet had treated him with more kindness than would be expected for a POW...

Coming to a conclusion, Ironhide decided that he would give the medic a sign of good faith—but just one, for now. He looked back at Ratchet, who was still waiting patiently for his response.

"It's Ironhide."


	3. Recovery

"Ironhide?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Megatron's weapons specialist?"

"That's what he said."

Jazz eyed the medic incredulously. "And you're just gonna take his word for it?"

Ratchet huffed. "Of course not. I didn't emerge from the Well of AllSparks yesterday." He finished gathering his diagnostic tools from the med bay before stepping out into the hangar. The ship had landed in Iacon a half joor ago, and everyone else who had been onboard was now elsewhere. Ratchet had stayed behind to prepare the ship's med bay for its next use, then Jazz showed up and had been following on the medic's heels ever since, hoping to procure more details about the mission.

The silver minibot continued with his questions, completely undeterred by his companion's gruff retorts.

"Then how do you plan to find out for sure?"

Ratchet stopped beside the small search and rescue ship, which looked significantly larger now that it was inside. "I've already asked Punch to verify everything the Decepticon said. I'm just waiting for his report."

"Gotcha..." Jazz leaned nonchalantly against the ship's hull. "So where's the 'Con now? In the brig?"

"No, the med bay."

"The med bay!" Jazz quickly pushed himself off the hull to return to a standing position. "Someone's watchin' him, right?"

"Calm down, Jazz. I sedated him. Everything's fine."

The silver minibot was not quite convinced. "You sure?"

"Positive." Ratchet turned to to leave. "Now, I suggest you go get some recharge."

"Whatever you say, Doc."

"And stop calling me that!" the medic yelled over his shoulder as he continued walking. Jazz only grinned, watching him go.

As Ratchet left the hangar, a ping on his internal comm system indicated that the report he had been waiting for was ready. He accessed it while also sending a quick message to Optimus, notifying him that the Decepticon prisoner was in stasis in the med bay and that he himself would be there shortly.

The medic knew that he probably should have gone to recharge as well. It was already very late and his HUD kept reminding him that he had hardly recharged in the past few orns, but he wanted to get things settled in the med bay first. Then he could go to the wash racks. Then he could recharge.

The walk to the med bay did not take long. Ratchet was there in a matter of breems.

He was glad to find that no one was around. No one besides his patient, anyway. His _Decepticon_ patient. Oh, the irony of that situation... Ratchet had been shot at on more occasions than he cared to remember, and had even been hit a few times, yet here he was treating one of _them_.

But in all honesty, Ratchet was not rendering aid to the mech simply because he had been ordered to do it—he had been, but even if he had not, he would have done it anyway. He would have because it was the right thing to do, and because he could not stand to see another Cybertronian in pain. Even if it was a Decepticon who deserved it.

Curse his medical programming, making him care about even an enemy.

Ratchet walked over to the berth where Ironhide lay in induced stasis. He ran another scan over the unconscious mech, tabulating the results and then comparing them with those he had obtained previously.

His overall condition was improving, his fractures had set properly, and all of his vital signs looked good. In short, he was recovering well and as expected. Ratchet entered the data into Ironhide's medical file.

Having completed his evaluation of the black mech's critical injuries, the medic began checking for any minor damage that had not yet been treated. Then he noticed the three faded but still visible glyphs that were imprinted on the Decepticon's helm.

Ratchet had seen the glyphs earlier, but they had been so covered in sandy dust that he had not really been able to read them. He moved closer, brushing some of the dust away.

To his surprise, the glyphs represented honor, courage, and strength. While the last two seemed more or less fitting for a Decepticon, the first one definitely did not.

_Honor_...

The last time Ratchet had seen that glyph, he thought his life was over. He was sure of it. In the middle of the battlefield, staring down the barrel of the most formidable weapon he had ever seen and caught in the burning red glare of the mech wielding it, he knew it was the end. He had thought about his patient who still needed him, and he thought about how he was letting his team down and how he was powerless to do anything about it. And the strange thing was, after those thoughts, he had thought about how ironic it was to be needlessly terminated by a mech who bore any symbol of honor. He could see the glyph so clearly as he just waited for the Decepticon to fire...

"Ratchet?"

"Hmm?" He pushed the thought away and looked up to see Optimus standing a short distance from him.

"Are you all right?" the Prime asked gently.

"I'm fine. Just... tired." It was a true statement. True enough, at least.

Optimus studied him for a moment longer, not seeming entirely convinced by his explanation, but he did not press the matter. "It has been a long orn."

"You can say that again." Ratchet was relieved to change the subject. "It isn't very often that we capture a high-ranking Decepticon."

"Indeed not." Actually, it had only happened twice. Including this time.

Optimus and Ratchet both turned at the sound of another mech entering the med bay. It was Jazz, and the smaller Autobot quietly closed the door behind himself before he moved to stand by the wall.

Ratchet sighed, running a hand over his face and muttering under his breath, "Primus, does that mech ever recharge?"

Optimus moved to the side of the berth opposite Ratchet, to avoid blocking Jazz's view and to get a closer look at their prisoner. Jazz, for his part, seemed perfectly comfortable observing from a distance.

The Prime looked back at Ironhide, who was completely still except for the gentle cycling of air through his vents, cooling his systems as he recharged. The Autobot leader also noted that the mech's wrists were bound by stasis cuffs, but his ankles were not. It was evidently because of his injuries.

"So this is Ironhide, the Decepticon weapons specialist?" Optimus knew of the mech, but had not actually seen him before.

"Yes," Ratchet replied. "And he also serves as a field commander in Megatron's army."

"I see." Then the black Decepticon was not just a weapons engineer—he was skilled in combat as well. "How much of a fight did he put up?"

"When he was captured? About as much as you would expect, given his condition. However, he was quite well-behaved on the ship. He even spoke openly with me for a while, until his fatigue got the best of him. Punch also confirmed that everything he told me was true. I found that surprising, considering his affiliation."

"I am not entirely surprised. From what little I know about Ironhide, he seems to be one of the few Decepticons who values honesty."

"Blunt honesty, maybe," Jazz cut in from where he was watching across the med bay. He started walking over to the berth.

"I thought I told you to go recharge," Ratchet griped, not trying to hide his exasperation.

Jazz was not flustered in the least. He knew Ratchet well enough to know that the medic's temper was just a coping mechanism, and it was nothing personal. "You did, and I was, but... I don't know. I got bored."

"You got _bored_? How can you possibly get bored when you're not awake?"

Jazz just shrugged, smiling wryly at the medic's annoyed glare, before turning to look at Ironhide. "So... this 'Con is at least somewhat honest, huh?"

"It appears so." Optimus paused, his expression becoming thoughtful. "I believe he does not yet understand that Megatron values no such thing. We may have an opportunity to convince him to leave the Decepticon cause."

"You think he'd join us?" Jazz was doubtful.

"That I do not know. It would depend on where his loyalties truly lie, and how strongly he has committed himself against the Autobots. Perhaps it is possible."

Although Ratchet did not personally think that it was a likely scenario, he respected his leader's judgment. "Perhaps, Optimus. Would you like to be here when he comes out of stasis?"

Optimus considered that for a moment. "No. I am not sure how he will react to my presence, and I do not wish for him to feel unduly threatened. I will see him after he has had some time to adjust."

"Very well. I'll keep you updated on his condition."

"Thank you, Ratchet. How long do you plan to keep him in stasis?"

"I've administered enough sedative to last the night. He should regain consciousness on his own soon after it wears off, though he probably won't be completely lucid right away."

As if in response to the medic's claim, Ironhide's venting pattern changed, becoming quicker and more erratic.

Jazz glanced anxiously at Ratchet. "Is he... waking up?"

"No, that's just part of his recharge cycle. It's a sign that he's recharging properly."

Optimus glanced at the medic. "Perhaps you should also get some rest, Ratchet."

"Shouldn't we all, Prime?"

The flame-patterned mech chuckled at that. "Indeed. Let's go."

… … …

Ironhide came to very early the next orn. He never remembered waking up so sluggishly before—it was as if his systems did not want to respond to his processor's commands. It was rather disconcerting, as was the dull yet widespread pain in his frame that finally registered after his systems finished rebooting. He tried to recall how he had gotten injured, but found he could not concentrate enough to do even that.

He took a few deep vents to steel himself before onlining his optics.

It was bright. Too bright. He squinted against the harsh overhead lighting and tried to focus on his surroundings. Though his vision remained fuzzy, he could make out the distinct shapes of medical equipment above him. It did not look like the Kaon med bay... He shuttered his optics, the brightness finally being too much to endure. He was dimly aware that something near him was beeping, but he gave it no more thought as he blindly attempted to haul himself to a sitting position.

"Easy, Ironhide."

Ironhide felt someone pushing him back, trying to limit his movement. He reacted to the touch instantly, and attempted to power up his weapons.

"Easy... It's all right. I'm not going to hurt you."

When his weapons failed to activate, Ironhide onlined his optics and was met with the bright blue gaze of the Autobot medic, who was standing next to him.

Ratchet lightly pressed his hand against Ironhide's chest plates, coaxing him to lie back down. "Don't try to get up just yet."

Now remembering everything that had happened, Ironhide did not resist the medic's order. He leaned back against the flat metal surface of the berth and sighed heavily, closing his optics before once again giving in to the fatigue that had beleaguered him ever since he had woken up on the desert floor.

… … …

Ironhide onlined several more times during the remainder of the orn, and Ratchet was always nearby to monitor his patient's condition.

The weapons specialist was becoming increasingly more alert and aware of his surroundings, a sign that his condition was continuing to improve. He could also stay awake for longer amounts of time, even though it was never for more than a joor or two.

"How much longer does he have to be on the drip?" Jazz had asked Ratchet on one of the occasions when Ironhide was in recharge.

"Another orn at least. It depends on how readily his systems adapt to it."

Jazz had not really been surprised. He was not a medic, but even he knew that was to be expected. Ironhide had lost a lot of energon, and considering the bulky mech's sizable frame, his transfusion would necessarily take a while. Receiving it too quickly would cause him to feel nauseous, if not purge his tanks.

Not that Jazz was inclined to care if a Decepticon felt a little queasy. Why Ratchet did was beyond him. Perhaps it was just the medic's dissimilar medical programming kicking in, or maybe he wanted to conduct his own evaluation of the the potentially dangerous mech that had been placed under his care, but Ratchet seemed rather acquiescent to the whole situation.

While Ironhide had for the most part acted civilly, Jazz could not help but worry about what would happen if the weapons specialist chose to turn on his Autobot captors. Primus, the mech's oversized cannons probably had enough firepower to level the entire med bay—and then some. They were not currently functional, but still...

Jazz just hoped that Optimus knew exactly how he was going to handle this Decepticon.

* * *

_Thank you, reviewers, for all the kind words :) I also feel obliged to point out that not all updates will be quite so frequent; most of this chapter had been written earlier, and I just happened to have enough free time to finish it._


	4. Progress

When Ironhide woke up the following orn, he was still tired but he could think much more clearly. Whatever it was the medic had been sedating him with must have finally worn off.

Ironhide had no way to know the time without his chronometer, but the direction and color of the natural light in the room told him it was late morning. He glanced around, as best he could while lying on his back at least, and noted that the med bay looked different somehow. He was hooked up to the same monitoring devices as before—he could see them above him—but the room itself just did not seem the same. He tensed against his restraints, which held just as firmly as they had earlier, before he scanned to the corners of the room.

The scan indicated that he was alone, and Ratchet was not there yet. Residual energy traces suggested that the medic had not been in the room recently.

The weapons specialist took the opportunity to study the room more closely, knowing now that it was definitely not the same one he was in before. This room was smaller, clearly designed to hold only one patient. Perhaps he was in some kind of isolation unit. The walls were slate gray and devoid of anything ornamental, but there was a window on the far wall. It was probably made of shatterproof glass.

The Autobots must have taken him there while he was in stasis. He found it vexing to think that they had done it and he had not even noticed. What else might they have—

Ironhide stiffened at the sound of the heavy door lock clicking open. He looked over to see Ratchet enter the room, the chartreuse medic using an access code to lock the door behind him.

Then the medic approached the berth, his optics focused on a handheld medical scanner as he wordlessly stopped beside Ironhide. The black mech stayed still while Ratchet scanned him and then checked the monitors. After a moment, the medic turned to Ironhide.

"I'm going to disconnect the drip," the medic said before removing the tape and gently grasping Ironhide's wrist, holding it steady. Then he added, slightly quieter, "This might sting a bit. Just try to relax."

Ironhide nodded his understanding, looking away as the medic slowly began to draw the large needle out, though he winced involuntarily as it neared the end.

"There." Ratchet set the needle aside with one hand, using the other to put some pressure on the leaking energon line. "So why 'Ironhide'?"

"What?" Ironhide's wrist still stung, and it did not help that the medic was bandaging it. Since Cybertronians were usually protected by their armor, they could be relatively sensitive underneath it.

"Your designation. Why did you choose it?"

Ironhide closed his optics, wincing again as the medic finished with the bandage. "It seemed fitting I guess."

Ratchet acknowledged noncommittally but did not say more, sensing that Ironhide was tired. He knew that the black mech did not like to recharge in the presence of others, and was probably fighting to stay online until he left.

Checking the monitors one more time, Ratchet updated the Decepticon's medical file and then turned toward him. The black mech had kept his optics closed, and seemed focused on his steady venting.

"You still with me, Ironhide?"

Ironhide drew in a larger vent of air before onlining his optics. "Yeah."

"Try to get some rest. I'll be back in a few joors." Ratchet turned to leave, and Ironhide glanced briefly in the medic's direction before shuttering his optics and falling into a much-needed recharge.

… … …

It seemed to Ironhide that he had just begun recharging when the door to the room clicked open again, waking him up. Ratchet stepped in, this time followed by Ultra Magnus.

The Autobot commander moved to stand by the wall, well out of the medic's way but still nearby, while Ratchet silently walked to the berth. He scanned Ironhide and then checked the monitors, just like he had before.

Ironhide blinked. "What time is it?"

"Almost 17:00."

It was already that late? Scrap...

Ratchet moved in front of him before speaking again, his voice professional as always. "We need to get you up for a bit. It's hard on your systems to stay in the same position for too long."

As the medic began disconnecting the medical equipment and proceeded to undo the restraints, Ironhide glanced at Ultra Magnus, who was merely watching with his arms crossed over his chest plates. The blue mech was there as backup, no doubt.

The weapons specialist shifted his attention back to Ratchet as the chartreuse mech removed the last restraint and then urged him to sit up. Ironhide tentatively pushed himself up, allowing the medic to help him when it became too difficult. He finally managed to sit on the berth's edge.

Ratchet kept a hand on the Decepticon's back to steady him, though it was clear that he was also preparing to help him stand. "All right. You're going to find this uncomfortable, but it will only get worse the longer we wait. It would be best to do it now since your welds have had time to reach full strength."

Ironhide hesitated, his stiff frame already aching in protest, before he relented with a tired sigh. "Very well."

Ratchet positioned himself at Ironhide's right side, draping the black mech's arm over his shoulders and using his own sturdy frame to support the mech as he stood. "Easy. Keep most of the weight on your left leg."

The weapons specialist did as he was instructed, leaning with his free hand against the surface of the berth to help keep the weight off of the damaged joint in his ankle. Still, he grunted as the pressure on his hip became distinctly uncomfortable.

Ironhide managed to stay standing with the medic's assistance. Ratchet had no trouble steadying the black mech, who was only slightly taller than him, but after a few more moments it became clear that Ironhide could stand without his help.

Ratchet performed another scan, a bit surprised that Ironhide was already able to support the weight of his heavy frame by himself. "All right, that's good. Let's get you back down."

Ironhide said nothing as he carefully eased himself back onto the berth. Ratchet stayed nearby to assist him if needed, but the black mech was able to lie down on his own. He then waited as the medic restrained him to the berth again.

Ultra Magnus stepped forward, having received a comm message seconds before. "If you'll excuse me, Doctor, my presence has been requested elsewhere. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"No, Ultra Magnus. I can handle it from here." He glanced up at the blue mech. "Thank you for your time."

"Of course." Ultra Magnus closed the door as he left but he did not lock it, knowing that the medic would not be long behind him.

Ratchet turned back to his patient, putting one hand on the Decepticon's chest. He could feel his spark pulsing rapidly. The recent activity, though he had managed it well, had obviously put some strain on him. Ratchet made a mental note to watch for situations were Ironhide might overexert himself but not show it.

The medic also internally chastised himself for allowing a patient any opportunity to potentially injure himself. He should have known better than to let Ironhide stand on his own, even if the mech had seemed able to do it. Frag, what had he been thinking?

But Ironhide appeared unharmed, his optics tracking Ratchet's movements as the medic deftly reattached the monitoring devices and studied their readouts. Determining that the weapons specialist had exhausted himself but was otherwise unharmed, Ratchet brushed his concern aside and finished updating Ironhide's medical file.

… … …

Later that orn, Jazz and Prowl sat at a table in the lounge, sipping on their respective cubes of energon and conversing about the things that had happened earlier in the orn, although in reality it was more of Jazz just talking and Prowl being content to listen. The silver minibot and the black and white enforcer were close friends, despite their polar opposite personalties.

Jazz looked up from his cube of energon when he sensed another friend entering the lounge. He waved at the chartreuse mech across the room.

Ratchet walked over to them, sitting down across from Jazz and next to Prowl. He set a cube of energon aside before leaning on the table and cradling his helm in his hands, sighing heavily.

Jazz glanced at the medic. "Long orn, huh?"

Not even lifting his helm, Ratchet mumbled a reply. "Story of my life."

"So what about the Decepticon?" Jazz asked, curious.

Ratchet looked up tiredly. "Ironhide?"

"Yeah. Magnus says he doesn't seem at all worried about bein' here."

"No, he doesn't. I'm not sure if we should be concerned about that or not."

"Did he have any tracking devices on him?"

"None, and his comm system was offline before we even arrived on the scene." The medic reached over and finally took a sip from his energon cube. "But it wouldn't take a space bridge scientist to figure out he's here. Our only well-equipped brig is at this base."

"Ain't that the truth." Jazz also took a sip of energon. "So why'd you leave his cannons on, anyway?"

"He seemed willing to cooperate, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. Leaving his weapons on, even if they are disabled, might give him at least some reason to trust us."

"Do you think he trusts us?"

Ratchet paused, thinking about it. "I don't know. I'm certain he doesn't fear us, but as far as anything else that's going on in his processor, I have no idea."

"Will he be interrogated?" Prowl asked absently, his optics focused on his own cube of energon as if he was trying to move it with his mind.

Jazz replied, "That's Prime's call. As far as I know, we're gonna see how the 'Con behaves after he's released from medical, then maybe do some preliminary evaluations to try and figure out how much of a threat he really is, and take it from there. How long do you think he'll need to stay in the med bay, Ratch?"

"Probably a few more orns. He's recovering quite quickly, especially considering that most mechs wouldn't have even survived such a blast."

The silver minibot leaned back, crossing his arms. "Yeah, that's pretty impressive. His designation suits him."

"Indeed it does." Ratchet finished his energon, and after studying the empty cube for a moment, he moved to get up. "Well, I'm heading back to my quarters. Comm me if there's an emergency."

Jazz nodded. "Will do. G'night, Ratch."

Ratchet stood, picking up the empty energon cube. "Good night, Jazz, Prowl."

Prowl waved good night. "Take it easy, Ratchet."

… … …

Ironhide lay awake, staring up at the dark ceiling of the little medical room. One of the Autobots had put some kind of thermal blanket over him, and while he was grateful for it, it also reminded him that someone had been there without his knowledge.

He was annoyed that he had no problem staying online now. Why could he not recharge now, when no one else would be around anytime soon? Oh, right... That would be far too convenient.

There was a thunderstorm off in the distance, and Ironhide looked across the room as the dim flashes of lightning strikes filtered through the window. He wondered what it would be like to be outside right about then. How severe was the weather, way out there? It would be interesting to see.

But he could not go anywhere. He puzzled over what the Autobots intended to do with him, since they had said nothing at all about it.

They did not seem inclined to hurt him—quite the opposite, actually—but they did not appear to want anything from him either. They had not demanded that he share any Decepticon secrets, even though they doubtlessly knew that he would have many of them. In fact, they had asked for nothing other than his designation, function, and rank, all of which they could have found out on their own if they had so desired. They had not even asked what he was doing in the Badlands.

Not that Ironhide would have given them any sensitive information then, nor did he intend to do it now. It would take more than a facade of niceness to break him. The Autobots were too soft, and Ironhide was confident that he could handle anything that they might attempt to force his cooperation.

The weapons specialist glanced back at the ceiling. He disliked being restrained to the berth, but then again he deserved as much for getting captured. Maybe he could have avoided that situation somehow, or maybe he could not have. It did not really matter now.

What did matter was what Ironhide would do from that point. He knew that he could not get out of his restraints, and it would be a waste of precious energy to even try, so he settled for scanning the room again. This time, he was evaluating its structural integrity.

A thorough analysis showed that the room was heavily reinforced, and it was not likely that he could escape even if he managed to get free inside. Frag... Scrap that idea.

Well then, he would just wait and see what his Autobot captors had planned for him.


	5. Incident

Ironhide stared up at the ceiling, squinting a bit as he focused on all the little details of the tiles. He could not be sure how many orns had passed, but he had recovered sufficiently enough for the Autobots to allow him to move about in his room—with supervision, of course. He would have to wait until Ratchet let him up, and if there was not a second Autobot around to protect the medic, Ironhide did not get to get up at all. He had to stay restrained to the berth, like he was now—waiting for Ratchet to make his morning rounds.

Ironhide had gotten quite good at predicting when the chartreuse mech would arrive, and he knew that it should be any time. There would also usually be someone with Ratchet in the mornings, since most mechs had fewer obligations that early in the orn. During the later joors, there would almost certainly be some incident to respond to, and in that case, everyone would be busy.

Not that the weapons specialist was particularly concerned with what the Autobots were doing, but he did prefer it when someone was available to help Ratchet. Ironhide wanted a little time to walk around. Even if it was not much, he looked forward to it. His frame felt stiff, and he tried shifting to a more comfortable position before looking out the window.

He could only see sky, but at least it was something to look at. Something more interesting than the ceiling.

Once he was off the berth, he would be able to see Iacon's skyline. That would be even better—interesting shapes, things moving, basically anything that he was not able to see while lying flat on his back in a static room.

At the sound of the door being opened, Ironhide turned to see Ratchet entering, followed once again by Ultra Magnus. The blue commander moved toward the wall, while the medic came up to the berth and began checking the monitors.

That was usually how things went, and it was exactly what Ironhide had expected. What he did not expect was that Ratchet did not unstrap him once he finished reading the monitors. Instead, the medic reached into one of the drawers of a cabinet stocked with medical equipment, and pulled out a syringe filled with some kind of clear liquid.

The weapons specialist was immediately anxious, though he was careful not to show it. "What's that?"

"Just a sedative," Ratchet explained as he partially turned away from the cabinet. "I'm going to put you under."

Ironhide eyed the medic warily and with mild confusion. His internal diagnostics gave no indication of any major problems. Certainly nothing that would require him to be sedated. "What for?"

"So we can transfer you to the brig." Ratchet turned to face him, clearly catching his anxiety.

The weapons specialist seemed to be more distressed by the sedative than the brig. Ratchet suspected that it had something to do with Ironhide not trusting Autobots.

The medic tried to reassure him. "Don't worry, the dose isn't very high. You'll be awake in less than a joor."

Ironhide still seemed to dislike the idea. "It's not necessary," he responded. "I'll go without a fight."

Ratchet glanced at Ultra Magnus, who then stepped forward to address the Decepticon.

"Just so we're clear," the Autobot commander said as he crossed his arms, "you're saying that you will willingly allow us to escort you to the brig, without any resistance?"

"Yes, that's what I'm saying."

Ultra Magnus paused, obviously considering the offer, though he kept his gaze fixed on the mech in front of him.

After a long pause, the blue mech spoke again. "Very well, Commander Ironhide, but be advised that _any_ action to the contrary will be grounds for reprisal."

Ironhide had already assumed as much. "I understand."

Ultra Magnus nodded silently, then turned to face Ratchet. "Doctor, is he able to walk?"

"That far? I would advise against it. However, he should be able to move in his alternate mode without trouble."

"Understood. I will clear the necessary areas." Ultra Magnus stepped toward the door. "Meet me in front of cell D4."

Ratchet acknowledged the order and then Ultra Magnus left, closing the door behind him. Ironhide watched as the medic put the syringe away and turned back to the berth.

"All right," Ratchet began as he unfastened the restraints, "I'm obligated to notify you that I will be carrying a stun gun, and you will be expected to stay in front of me at all times unless I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

The weapons specialist nodded. "Yeah, I've got it."

"Good." Ratchet disconnected the monitoring devices, then helped his patient get up off the berth. Once Ironhide was standing, Ratchet continued. "Follow me."

Ironhide was a bit surprised that the medic would turn his back to him right away, but it was probably so he could key-in the door's security code. The black Decepticon walked behind him as instructed, but did not even try to get a glimpse of the code. The Autobots would probably change it anyway.

Ratchet opened the door and motioned for Ironhide to go through. The weapons specialist stepped into the hallway, stopping just outside of the room while the medic closed the door behind them. Sure enough, the chartreuse mech activated a setting on the lock that would randomize the code. Autobots were so predictable.

"Now, transform and head to the right."

Ironhide did as he was told, keeping his pace slow as the medic walked behind him. They went through several empty corridors, Ratchet telling him either where to go or when to change direction. Eventually, they reached a freight elevator. Ironhide stopped in front of it.

The medic walked up next to him, opening the elevator door and instructing him to drive in. Ironhide rolled forward, the length of his alt mode being just less than that of the elevator. Ratchet stepped in, and stood next to Ironhide as the door closed automatically.

As the elevator descended, Ratchet thought about saying something to black Decepticon. But he hesitated, not sure exactly what it was he wanted to say. Ironhide did not speak either, just quietly idled his engine as the medic stood beside him.

Ratchet was internally relieved that the Decepticon was cooperating. In fact, the only reason he and Ultra Magnus had agreed to Ironhide's proposal was to test whether or not the black mech would be true to his word. So far, he had been. Optimus would be interested in hearing about that—he seemed to think that Ironhide had the capacity to do what was right.

Ratchet was not really sure if Ironhide's behavior was genuine or not. There had obviously been an element of risk involved in conducting a test like this, but Ratchet had not doubted that it was the right time for it. And in a strange way, he had not felt like he was in any real danger being alone with the mech. Something about Ironhide made him feel... safe. Like nothing would happen to him. It was quite unusual, really.

_Ironhide is a Decepticon_, Ratchet forcibly reminded himself. _He probably knows how to put up that kind of facade._

The elevator came to a stop, and the door opened. Just beyond was a dimly-lit hallway of the brig. Ratchet directed Ironhide toward Ultra Magnus, who was waiting for him.

… … …

Ironhide looked out from the elevator to where Ultra Magnus stood. It was clearly the brig, not that that was any surprise. The weapons specialist had agreed to go there, after all.

_The Autobots' only secure brig_, his data files informed him. He would have to handle the situation carefully, especially since he was still totally disarmed.

Ironhide was no fool—he knew that all possible exits would be blocked or guarded. He also knew that he was in no position to make a break for it, not with Ultra Magnus and Ratchet there. If he wanted the highest possible chance of succeeding, he would need to wait for just the right moment. This was not it.

"Let's go." The medic signaled him to move ahead. Ironhide complied immediately, pulling out of the elevator as Ratchet walked behind him and Ultra Magnus opened the large, barred door of a holding cell at the end of the hallway.

Ultra Magnus held the door open as Ironhide drove in without instruction, opting to stay in his alt mode rather than transforming and walking in. However, once Ultra Magnus closed the cell door and turned to speak to him through the bars, Ironhide transformed.

"Your cooperation is appreciated, Ironhide," the blue mech said. "I want you to know that we will not soon forget it."

Ironhide did not say anything in response, only kept his gaze on Ultra Magnus in case the blue mech had not yet finished speaking.

But apparently he had, because he turned around and headed back toward the elevator. Ironhide glanced at Ratchet, who watched him for a few seconds longer before he too turned and left.

Ironhide stood for a moment, contemplating what he was going do, before transforming back into his alt mode to get some rest.

… … …

Another orn passed. Much to Ironhide's chagrin, he still needed to recharge frequently. Frag, he had not recharged this much since he was a youngling.

At least the cell was large enough to accommodate his alt mode. He liked to have some privacy while he recharged—the thought of someone watching him was unnerving.

He was online now, but he had not bothered transforming into his primary mode. It was not like he had anything to do that required it.

The weapons specialist had already scanned the interior of the cell, looking for any weak spots. Unfortunately he had not found any. This brig was indeed well-built. It even had some attribute that prevented him from scanning too far beyond the walls of his cell. But at the very least, he could acquire some data about the layout of the brig in this particular section. Perhaps the other areas were designed similarly. And even if they were not, any bit of data was better than none.

He observed and cataloged anything he could, on the off chance that some of the information he was gathering might prove useful. At this point, the only thing Ironhide could do was acquire data. Everything else still depended on the Autobots.

For now, anyway.

… … …

Jazz casually made his way down to the brig, heading toward the holding cell that currently housed the Autobots' only captive—Ironhide. Jazz was curious to talk to the mech one-on-one, since he was not usually on speaking terms with any Decepticons. It would be interesting.

He walked down the empty hallway, looking for cell Delta-4. That was were Ultra Magnus had told him the Decepticon would be. Sure enough, Jazz found him there.

Ironhide was in his alt mode, parked in the middle of the cell and facing the side of it. He did not seem to notice Jazz's arrival.

The silver minibot waited a moment, then stepped closer to the bars. "Hey there, 'Hide."

Ironhide still did not move and Jazz briefly wondered if the mech was even awake, but after a few seconds the vehicle shifted and began to transform. The dark metal plates rearranged themselves in a just slightly delayed sequence before revealing the equally dark primary mode of the Decepticon weapons specialist.

"Jazz," Ironhide acknowledged simply.

The silver minibot leaned nonchalantly against the bars, trying not to appear threatening in any way. "So you already know my designation, huh?"

"Yes. I also know that you are the Autobots' head of intelligence."

"That's right."

"So are you here to interrogate me?" The Decepticon's tone was inflectionless, but his posture seemed to say, _I'd like to see you try._

"Nah," Jazz replied as he waved his hand dismissively. "Nothing like that. I just thought we'd chat for a bit."

Ironhide cocked his head ever so slightly. "About what?"

Jazz shifted his weight, clasping his hands together through the bars. "Well, I was just wondering how you got yourself into this... let's say _situation_, in the first place."

What kind of superfluous topic was that? "I'm certain that you are already aware of what happened."

"Of course I already know what happened, I'm just curious about how it happened." At Ironhide's blank gaze, Jazz continued. "I mean, you're a real high-ranking mech to make that kind of mistake. Didn't you know where you were going?"

The Decepticon narrowed his optics suspiciously. "I knew exactly where I was going."

"Then how'd you run over a landmine?"

"The use of landmines in neutral zones is explicitly forbidden. I had no reason to divert sensory power for their detection."

"Well, that was your mistake. You should have checked anyway."

What? That was most certainly _not_ his fault. "The air commander is in charge of perimeter control. Placing a landmine in a neutral zone was his mistake."

"His mistake?" Jazz huffed derisively. "Maybe you didn't notice, but it was hardly the only one out there."

Ironhide was getting annoyed. "What's your point?"

"Starscream did it intentionally. It was Megatron's order."

The weapons specialist backed up at that. "You're lying."

"No, I'm not—"

"Why should I believe you?" he spat.

Jazz met Ironhide's heated glare boldly. "Because I have recordings to prove it."

The Decepticon hesitated, but he seemed to calm down.

"I don't believe that."

Jazz took a step back, away from the bars as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Would you like to listen for yourself?"

Ironhide hesitated again, almost as if he was not sure he wanted to know the answer. Jazz silently waited for the black mech to come to a decision.

Just as Ironhide was about to speak, something on the far wall exploded. Jazz ducked, covering his face as a few pieces of concrete struck his armor and dust filled the air.


	6. Break

_Will this story be like Turning Points? Hmm... yes and no. While it is definitely inspired by Alathea2's work and we all know whose side Ironhide will be on by the end (just like we do with Prowl), I'm taking everything up until that point in a different direction ;)_

_Thanks again to all the kind reviewers! Know that I've enjoyed each and every comment, from the very beginning ^^_

* * *

Jazz was not sure what had happened, but he stayed down until a good amount of the dust settled. Then, when everything was quiet, he slowly stood up, letting the rocks tumble off his dust-covered frame as he turned to check on Ironhide. The mech should be fine, since he was farther from the source of the explosion than Jazz was, but the Autobot wanted to make sure.

Ironhide had shielded himself as well, and although the black mech had sustained a few light scratches on his armor, he appeared to be otherwise unharmed. He also seemed to be just as clueless as Jazz was.

"You all right?" The silver minibot asked him.

"I'm fine," the Decepticon replied curtly as he brushed himself off. Then, more politely, "What was that?"

"I don't know." Jazz looked back, across the hallway. There was still a lot of dust in the air but he could see a large, jagged crack running down the entire length of the far wall, and the floor was littered with chunks of concrete that had apparently been blown away by the explosion.

Jazz stepped a little closer, trying to get some idea of what had happened, while Ironhide watched anxiously from behind the bars.

The silver minibot noted that all of the debris had been blown toward them, meaning that whatever had caused the damage must have been on the other side of the wall. That was where the explosion had actually originated.

Jazz scanned the wall. Normally, his sensors would not be able to see what was on the other side of it since it was specifically designed to block any kind of interference, but now that the internal structure was compromised, he was indeed able to scan it. And he detected the metallic remnants of a plasma grenade.

"Frag!" Jazz bolted away, fearing an explosion from another grenade, but nothing happened. He quickly regained his composure and turned back to the cell, where Ironhide was peering at him with a confused look on his face.

"What was that about?" the weapons specialist asked.

"Just... Stay here. I'll be back." Jazz turned and left without glancing back or even waiting for a reply. He needed to contact Optimus, tell him that they had a security breach, and it would be best if the Decepticon did not hear any of it. Keeping things on a need-to-know basis was almost always a good idea when dealing with Decepticon prisoners, especially when the situation was not clear yet.

Ironhide would probably need to be moved to the part of the brig that had even higher security. If someone had planted an explosive device, then they had obviously infiltrated the base. The only mechs who would do that were the Decepticons.

He could not let the Decepticons get Ironhide. Not while the Autobots had a chance to save him from that life, to show him how they were different.

It was what they stood for. What they would always stand for.

Although Jazz had never been sure, not from the start, if there could be any hope for the black mech to leave the Decepticons, but Optimus believed it was possible and that was good enough for Jazz. Finally reaching a distant hallway, he contacted his leader.

"Optimus, are you there?"

It took a moment for the Prime to answer. _"I'm here, Jazz."_

"We've got a 'Con infiltration. Get everyone on high alert."

_"Understood. Where are you now?"_

"In the brig. I didn't see any of them, but there was a grenade in one of the hallways. I think they're looking for their weapons specialist."

_"Is Ironhide secure?"_

The silver mech glanced behind himself out of habit, though he could not see anything other than the empty hallway. "For now, but I'd highly recommend calling someone down here to move him." Jazz could not handle the larger mech alone. Not safely, anyway. It would take someone like Ultra Magnus or Bulkhead to do that.

_"Do it. Ultra Magnus and I will begin the search for the Decepticons."_

… … …

Finally, peace and quiet...

Ratchet was tired. It had been yet another long shift, and he was thankful that most mechs were not around at night. He walked through the abandoned hallways and common areas of the base, heading toward the equally abandoned med bay. Since there were no patients there at the moment, it would be the perfect time for him to finish compiling those incomplete medical reports from earlier in the orn. The blasted things seemed to multiply faster than cyberbunnies.

Only a few breems passed before Ratchet found himself in front of the med bay's heavy door. He keyed in the code to open it, then headed across the large, dimly-lit room to the office located on the far side of the med bay. He unlocked that door as well but just as he stepped through the entrance, an alarm started going off.

"You've got to be fraggin' kidding me!" Lockdown? At this time of night? If those Pit-spawned twins had decided to play that prank again, Ratchet would take it upon himself to show them just how funny it was...

But it did not matter right then. He had to follow protocol until he received an all-clear. After shutting and locking the office's door, he started walking back the way he came.

Why did he even bother trying to get any work done? There was clearly no point. Something or someone _always_ had to interrupt him. It was as if not _one_ orn could go by without it.

Well, maybe it was not that bad... But still, he hated interruptions.

Ratchet was about halfway across the med bay when he caught a glimpse of a mech out of the corner of his optic, but he did not think much of it. It was probably just one of the junior medics.

When he noticed that the mech did not seem to be getting ready to leave, Ratchet called out, "Whoever you are, we're under lockdown. You need to exit the med bay."

"Do I, now?"

The medic froze when he heard that voice. He knew it did not belong to one of his comrades—it belonged to Starscream.

The sound of a weapon powering up only confirmed it. Ratchet knew he was in trouble and he lifted his hands placatingly, but he did not turn around to face the mech who was now undoubtedly standing behind him.

He heard Starscream step closer. "Attempt to contact anyone, and it will be the last move you ever make."

Ratchet cursed to himself. Why had he not been more careful? He _knew_ there could have been a security threat! And now, it looked like he would pay the price for his lapse in judgment. He remained silent as the Decepticon walked in front of him.

"So, what do we have here? A medic?"

The air commander began circling him, but Ratchet still did not move. He tried to keep his voice calm as he answered. "Yes, I'm a medic. That means I'm no threat to you."

"Perhaps not, Medic." Starscream stopped, facing the chartreuse Autobot. "However, that doesn't mean I will just let you go."

Ratchet somehow managed to hide his rising panic. He knew that the silver mech would only use it against him. _As if anything might make a difference right now_, Ratchet lamented silently. No matter what he did, he would be lucky if he made it out of this in one piece.

Starscream continued, acting almost nonchalant as he subtly threatened the unarmed mech who stood before him. "But perhaps we can barter. I could use your help with something..."

The only thing worse than jeopardizing his own life would be risking that of others, the medic decided. Whatever Starscream wanted would not be in the best interest of the Autobots, and Ratchet would not betray his own team. Not if he had any choice. "There's nothing I can do to help you."

"No? Well, let's see about that!"

Starscream lunged at him, and Ratchet tried to dodge the attack but the Decepticon was too quick. He grabbed Ratchet by the arms and threw him to the ground.

… … …

_Stay here? Where in the Pit else would I go?_

Ironhide idled in vehicle mode, trying to burn off some anxiety. The klaxons had stopped sounding a little while ago, but red lights were still flashing in the hallway. Something serious had obviously happened, and Jazz had told him nothing. The silver mech had left without so much as a backwards glance.

Ironhide did not care whether or not the Autobot had any concern for him, but if anything nearby was a potential threat, he would really like to know about it. The weapons specialist did not like guessing—he liked facts. Facts meant he could be prepared.

Even if there was only so much preparation he could do while unarmed and locked in a cell, knowing was still better than not knowing. At least he could be mentally prepared. Sometimes, that was the most important part.

Being able to shoot did not do any good if one could not steady himself.

The veteran soldier was finding it harder than usual to get his emotions under control. Scrap, he was out of practice. He had been off the battlefield for too long.

It had not even been that long! Frag it all...

Ironhide transformed, giving up on trying to calm down in alt mode and deciding instead to pace his cell. Maybe that would help.

Not long after he began pacing, he heard a door in the hallway creak open and then slam shut. He also heard the footsteps of a single mech echoing down the hall. Perhaps Jazz was back? No one else had been to the brig since Ironhide was there except Ratchet and Ultra Magnus.

The mech came into view a few moments later. Ironhide could see that it was not Jazz, but Bulkhead.

Where was Jazz?

Bulkhead stopped in front of the door of the cell, ordering the Decepticon to step back before he unlatched it.

The green mech seemed agitated about something, and Ironhide eyed him warily. "What's going on?"

"That's none of your concern."

Bulkhead's sharp remark only made Ironhide tense further.

But the green Wrecker did not see that, his focus instead on the pair of stasis cuffs that he had brought with him.

_Ratchet had not used cuffs_, Ironhide thought.

"All right." Bulkhead turned his attention to the black Decepticon. "Come forward, and hold your hands out in front of you."

"Why are you doing this?" Ironhide asked even as he complied with the order. He wanted to know what was going on.

"I don't have to explain anything to you, 'Con." Bulkhead apparently took the inquiry as a sign of defiance because he grabbed Ironhide's wrist, inadvertently putting pressure on the still-tender spot where the needle had been.

That was a mistake. Before the green mech had time to react, Ironhide twisted out of his grip and forced the mech against the wall.

Bulkhead yelled at him, "Let me go, Ironhide!"

Ironhide said nothing as he and Bulkhead each struggled to subdue the other. Bulkhead managed to push himself away from the wall despite the additional weight of the Decepticon pressing against him, but Ironhide used it as an opportunity to change positions with the mech, so he was closer to the door and Bulkhead was farther from it.

"I said let me go!" Bulkhead could see what was happening, and he tried to wrestle his arms free before it was too late.

But Ironhide held him fast. After a short scuffle, he threw Bulkhead to the floor and then quickly darted out of the cell, latching the door behind him.

Then he transformed and drove off. He could hear Bulkhead radioing for backup, but he did not stop or slow down. It was too late for that—they would be hunting him now.


	7. Escape

What had he done?

Ironhide drove steadily through the labyrinthine corridors of the brig, praying to Primus that he would not run into anyone. That scuffle with the Autobot had left Ironhide with a torn energon line in his arm.

What the frag had he been thinking? When Bulkhead grabbed him, yes it hurt, but he could have taken it. He _should_ have—the green mech had probably not intended to cause any pain, and in all likelihood did not even realize that he did. But Ironhide had lost it, and attacked him anyway.

Now what was he supposed to do? Try to escape?

The weapons specialist had figuratively backed himself into a corner—it would have been so much easier if he had gained their trust first. Then he could have just slipped away at the first available opportunity, and no one would have gotten hurt. He had not meant for that to happen.

Hopefully the green mech was all right. Ironhide was honestly not sure how rough he had been with him.

But the Decepticon commander did know that his actions had not been justified. He had not needed to take it that far, to use excessive force without good cause, and the Autobots would doubtlessly feel the same way. They were probably looking for him right at that very moment.

He needed to find a way out.

But how? The only thing he could think to do was try some of the Autobot security codes from Soundwave. One of them might work.

Ironhide banked left, taking a route to the exit that was less direct. The Autobots would likely search the main areas of the building first, and then fan out from there. He may be able to buy some time by not being where they expected him to be.

The weapons specialist had schematics of each floor, so he should have no trouble doing that much. The only other thing that might work to his advantage was that it was the middle of the night. There would not be as many mechs around.

Other than that, he was at a total disadvantage.

But it would not be the first time. Ironhide was used to ending up in tricky situations, and he always managed to make it through. This one would not be any different. He just had to avoid making another stupid mistake.

Ironhide stopped at the end of the hallway, checking his navigation. The adjacent hall went up at an incline, so if there was any logic to Autobot architecture, it should lead to a loading area or hangar. Ironhide wanted to make sure it did before he moved ahead.

According to his maps, that was indeed the case. It should go to a hangar where they kept ships.

He rolled forward, going from the well-lit main hallway to a more dimly-lit smaller one. It still looked basically the same, with silvery walls and lights spaced at regular intervals down the sides. It also had a low ceiling, which made the weapons specialist feel slightly constricted despite the fact that there was enough space for him. He would just not have much room to maneuver if something happened there.

Ironhide drove slowly, turning his lights on when it started getting too dark around the corner. He could have used infrared, but that would have taken more energy. Headlights would be fine. If there were no hallway lights on, then there were probably not any mechs either. No one would see him.

And no one did. He made it to the end of the hallway without a hitch.

Now, the hard part—trying to get through the reinforced door.

The black mech transformed, standing so he could better see the lock mechanism. He took a step toward the door, and almost stumbled into it.

Frag, he must have re-injured his ankle too.

Ironhide leaned with his hands against the door to steady himself, waiting for the initial wave of pain to pass, and then he straightened. The longer he waited, the more likely it was that someone would find him.

He quickly looked up the security codes he had on file. Only one was listed as still valid. 52-38-47.

Keeping one hand on the door frame for support, he entered the code. The door beeped, and then slid open. Good.

Ironhide stepped through, and it closed automatically behind him. He looked out across the dark open space, adjusting his lights so he could see what was there. Yes, it was the hangar.

Transforming again, the weapons specialist took off around the ships, heading for the bay doors. There would likely be a smaller access door near them too. If he could find that, he would not need to look for the controls for the bay doors.

As he drove through the hangar, he made a mental note of what the Autobots kept there. They had three larger ships, and one smaller one that looked like the little search and rescue ship they had taken him in. Maybe it was the same one, or maybe just the same type. There were some empty spaces that could accommodate a few other ships too, so it was hard to say. Not that it really mattered.

Ironhide had almost made it across the hangar when he heard a door opening. He quickly turned his lights off, and darted behind one of the larger ships. Then he silently waited, hoping that the mech had not seen him.

Actually, it was more than one mech—Ironhide could just make out their indistinct voices. There were two, and neither one sounded familiar. He must not have ever met them.

They began shining lights on the floor, but the black mech still did not move. Nor was he going to until he was absolutely certain that they had seen him. And right now, it seemed that they had not.

He had not heard them power up their weapons, and if they were trying to be stealthy, they would not be talking. Perhaps they were not trying to find him, but were there for another reason. It was a possibility.

Very slowly, so as not to make any noise, Ironhide transformed into his primary mode. Then he carefully moved to the edge of the ship, and peeked around the hull.

The two mechs were facing away from him. One was green while the other was some sort of orange color, and both were relatively small. When it looked like they might turn toward him, Ironhide hid back behind the ship.

They were not a threat. He would simply wait for them to leave.

It did not take long until they did, and the weapons specialist relaxed when he heard the door shut behind them. He waited a few more breems, mainly so he could rest, before transforming back into vehicle mode and continuing to the far side of the hangar.

Once he was there, he found the access door. It was right next to one of the larger bay doors.

All right, now how did it open?

Ironhide drove up to it, looking for some kind of control system. He located it quickly—on the wall to the left. The switch to open the door was low enough that he could probably activate it in vehicle mode. That way, he would not need to transform again. It was aggravating some of his injuries.

Ironhide backed up and turned toward the switch, lightly tapping it with his front bumper. It clicked easily, and he headed back around as the door opened. Then, without a moment's hesitation, he bolted outside and sped off.

… … …

"He attacked you?"

"Yeah," Bulkhead replied as the junior medic, First Aid, checked him for any injuries. "But... it might have been my fault. I kind of grabbed his arm, and I think it may have hurt him."

First Aid gave the larger mech a sideways glance. "You probably shouldn't have done that."

"I know." Bulkhead looked up when he heard Jazz approaching. The silver minibot had been helping with the search efforts, and Bulkhead was curious to know if they had found anything. "Have you finished checking the building yet?"

"Almost." Jazz stopped beside his companions. "But so far, no sign of 'Cons or Ironhide."

"What about the hangar?"

"Skids and Mudflap were just there, and they said they didn't see him."

"They weren't looking for him either," the green Wrecker pointed out.

"No, they weren't, but I asked them to check it again and they did. He's not there."

"Then where do you think he is?"

"Honestly?" Jazz asked, receiving a nod in reply. "Gone, I'm sure."

Bulkhead put a large hand over his face. "Great..."

"Prowl's out lookin' for him." The silver mech tried to be reassuring.

It seemed to help, at least a little. "Well, that's good."

"But there's something else," Jazz continued, looking uncharacteristically worried. "No one's been able to get ahold of Ratchet."

… … …

Ironhide navigated the quiet streets of Iacon, his black paint glinting under the myriad of city lights. Iacon was a large city and although the weapons specialist would have rather made better time getting through it, he moderated his speed to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Not that many others were around to see him. The streets were predominantly empty, and the few mechs who did pass by did not pay any attention to him.

That suited Ironhide just fine. He did not want another incident like the one earlier.

The weapons specialist turned right, opting to take the most direct route out of the city. The less time he had to spend in the heart of Autobot territory, the better.

But he was getting tired. He was not sure if it was because he had not engaged in any strenuous activity for some time, or if it was due to his injuries. Maybe it was some combination of the two.

Ironhide started looking for a place where he could rest, preferably one that was completely out of sight. Perhaps an alley, or somewhere else that was surrounded by buildings. Or he could try to find an industrial park. There would be a lot of places to hide there.

However, his maps indicated that there was not one nearby. He would have to settle for an alley instead.

At least he would not need to go far off his route. A handful of alleys were quite close to him, and this area had fewer streetlights, so it was dark. Even better.

The black mech headed down a side street, searching for the best possible place to conceal himself. Maybe over on the next block, between the few small outbuildings at the end of the road. It was deserted, and off the main drag. He should be safe there.

But just as Ironhide rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of Prowl's black and white vehicle mode. The Praxian enforcer was heading down the opposite block, and did not seem to have noticed him.

Ironhide stopped quietly and backed up, turning into a nearby alley, while Prowl disappeared behind a building.

After waiting a few more breems to make sure Prowl was gone, Ironhide pulled out onto the street again. If he could just avoid the enforcer long enough, he might be able to reach the city limits before—

"Ironhide, halt!"

Scrap... So much for that idea. Ironhide obediently rolled to a stop, waiting for Prowl to pull up behind him.

"What do you want, Prowl?" It was an inane question and he knew it. What Prowl wanted was obvious.

"I want you to come with me, _peacefully._"

Ironhide transformed, turning to address Prowl with a hint of challenge. "And if I don't?"

The Praxian likewise transformed, then quickly drew his weapon and fired.

The point-blank shot hit Ironhide squarely in the chest, splattering him with conductive gel. The gluey material scrambled his internal signals before he even had time to process what was happening.

Prowl watched as the Decepticon stumbled and fell to his hands and knees. The mech was visibly dazed, but not completely down. His unusually thick armor must be protecting him to a certain extent. Prowl made a mental note of that.

Then the enforcer stepped closer, getting his stasis cuffs out. Ironhide was still on the ground, but he was trying to get up.

"Stop resisting, Ironhide," Prowl warned him.

But Ironhide did not stop, and he pulled his hand away when Prowl moved to apply the stasis cuffs.

Prowl spoke more sternly now. "Ironhide—"

Suddenly, the Decepticon knocked Prowl to the ground, pinning him on his back.

The stun blast had not been strong enough, Prowl realized with a start. He struggled to reach his weapon, intending to take another shot, but Ironhide kept holding him down. The black mech had the upper hand, and he relieved the Praxian of his weapon before turning it against him and firing.

Prowl's smaller frame seized, the shot affecting him more so than it had Ironhide. Then he went limp, slipping into a state of temporary unconsciousness.

Ironhide laid him down gently, and set the weapon aside. Then he transformed into alt mode and drove away, toward the outskirts of Iacon.


	8. Journey

_"__—__wler, can you hear me?"_

Prowl woke up feeling groggy, and his helm was pounding, but he managed to catch the latter part of that comm—not that he was cognizant enough to respond to it yet. However, he did vaguely realize that he was lying on the ground.

What? Where was he?

His systems were still coming back online, and he tried to recall what he had been doing before going into stasis. The last thing he remembered was... Oh, frag!

_Ironhide_.

Prowl immediately tried to get up, to make sure the Decepticon was not near him, but the movement only made him dizzy. He hesitantly lay back down, and decided to instead scan for the black mech.

There was no sign of him.

As Prowl thought about it, that made sense. Ironhide would likely not have stayed close.

What Prowl did not understand was how this scenario had even happened, or rather, why he unwittingly gave the black mech an opportunity to stun him with his own weapon. He had seen that Ironhide was not totally incapacitated, but he had approached him anyway. That was foolish to say the least, so _why_ had he done it?

The Praxian enforcer silently berated himself. He knew better.

But what was done was done, and Prowl just felt fortunate that Ironhide had not had access to any lethal weapons at the time. It would be an understatement to say a situation like that would have been much worse.

A few shocked systems was hardly anything to complain about, though it was still uncomfortable for Prowl. He ran some calculations to estimate how much time it would take until the feeling passed. He knew it should not be long, but if he wanted to continue his pursuit of the Decepticon, he would need to wait for the effects to wear off.

At least Ironhide may have also been delayed, since the stun blast would be having an effect on him too.

_"Prowl, answer me!"_

The Praxian shifted upon receiving another comm. Was that... Jazz?

_"Hello!"_

Yes, it was Jazz. He was probably concerned that Prowl had been out of radio contact for so long, since it was not like the enforcer to do that.

Prowl rolled onto his side, taking a moment to clear his processor. He cradled his helm before responding.

"There is no need to yell, Jazz. I can hear you just fine."

_"Prowler!"_ The silver minibot sounded relieved. _"You're there!"_

No matter how close of a friend as Jazz was, the mech's superfluous statements never ceased to baffle Prowl. "Of course. Where else would I be?"

_"Well, I had a hard time reaching you. I thought maybe something happened."_

"I had some trouble with the Decepticon," Prowl admitted. "In short, he bested me."

Jazz paused. _"Are you okay?"_

"Yes, I'm fine." Or at the very least, he would be shortly.

_"Good! I'm glad! But listen, we have a situation..."_

"With Ironhide. I already know." Prowl just mentioned it, did he not?

_"No, it's more important than that,"_ Jazz corrected. _"Optimus is getting a rescue team together."_

A rescue team? Prowl wondered what could have happened to necessitate that, but he could find out once he got back to base. "All right. I'm on my way."

_"No,__ just stay there. I'm gonna send Jolt to your location, and he'll escort you back."_

"What for?"

_"Just trust me, Prowler. It's for your own good."_

Prowl sighed. "Very well."

_"All right. See ya soon."_

"See you, Jazz." Prowl closed the comm link, getting ready to wait until Jolt arrived. Sometimes, he did not understand why others showed such concern for him. Why send a medic, when he said he was fine?

But it did not really matter, so Prowl was not going to argue about it.

Instead, he gingerly pushed himself up to a sitting position, glancing toward the ground as he ran a diagnostic scan. It felt like most of his systems were back online and functioning normally, but he wanted to make sure.

When the scan finished, reporting no anomalies, Prowl lifted his optics and took a moment to look around. It was still very dark, which meant he had not been unconscious for too long.

Nonetheless, Ironhide may have had enough time to make it out of Iacon, especially if he had not tried to continue moderating his speed. And why would he, if the roads were empty and he believed the Autobots were looking for him?

No, if the black mech could help it, he would probably not stop again until he was far from the city.

Prowl spent a few breems thinking about how he could handle the situation differently next time, to prevent such an occurrence from happening in the future. But then Jolt's blue vehicle mode came into view, and he realized that it would have to be a concern for another time.

Prowl noted how quickly the medic had arrived, surmising that he must have been somewhere in the area. He moved to stand up as the blue mech transformed and walked over to him, but Jolt motioned for him not to.

"Good evening, Prowl."

"Good evening." The Praxian lowered himself back to a sitting position, keeping his hands on the ground for support.

Jolt knelt down in front of him, and smiled slightly. "Jazz asked me to come and take a look at you. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I tracked Ironhide here, he stopped, and I attempted to detain him. Then the situation got out of hand," Prowl explained. "He seized my weapon and used it against me."

"Which weapon was it?"

"The Investigator Special."

Jolt nodded. "And what setting did you have it on?"

It took Prowl a few seconds to remember. "Mid-range."

"Do you think he changed the setting?"

"No, I don't think he did."

"Maybe he didn't know how," the medic speculated idly.

Prowl almost smiled at that. "Do you know much about Ironhide, Jolt?"

"Nothing," Jolt replied. "Only his designation."

"Well then, let me just say I'm fairly certain he would know how to set it."

"All right. I'd like to make sure he didn't." Jolt pulled a medical scanner out of subspace, and held it up to the Praxian. "Hold still while I scan you."

"That's not necessary. I already–"

"Hold still," the blue medic cut him off kindly, but firmly.

Prowl obeyed, stilling his movements until Jolt completed the scan.

"No indications of serious damage," Jolt said as he put his scanner away, "but I will say you were lucky that the setting wasn't any higher. What would have only stunned him might have injured you."

The Praxian responded with a subdued, "I know." The Investigator Special was a non-lethal weapon, but that did not mean it could not cause harm when used improperly.

Jolt smiled at him, and held out his hand. "Come on. Let me help you up."

Prowl let the medic help him stand, and that was when he noticed his Investigator Special lying on the ground nearby.

Ironhide had not taken it.

"Ready to head back to base?" Jolt asked before he transformed into vehicle mode and turned toward the road.

"Yes." Prowl reached down and picked up the weapon, flipping it over in his hand before placing it back at his side. Then he transformed and followed after Jolt.

… … …

It was cold in the cell. Cold, and damp. And Ratchet hated it.

He was not even sure how he got there. They had chained him against the back wall, he remembered that, but as far as what happened before then, the medic honestly did not know. All he knew was that the air commander must have brought him.

Starscream probably had to drag Ratchet out of the Autobot base. The medic was not light, either.

_Good. That lanky flier deserved to work a little. _

Or at least, that was what Ratchet tried to focus his thoughts on, rather than what the Decepticons were planning to do with him now that he was in one of their bases somewhere.

He did not think they would terminate him, not if they wanted to use him as leverage to get Ironhide back. That was the only way Ratchet would be of any use to them, because he was certainly not going to give them a shred of information. Not if he could help it.

Every time Decepticons would walk by his cell, Ratchet was afraid that they would come and interrogate him. So far, they had not, but that only increased the medic's anxiety.

What were they waiting for?

If they were trying to unnerve him, it was working...

Frag it all.

Ratchet tugged feebly against the chains that held him to the floor, making no real effort to free himself. He did not expect to get loose. Rather, he just needed to feel like he was doing something.

He quickly stopped when he heard the door to his cell clang open.

Looking up, Ratchet saw a black and white mech standing in the doorway, and for an astrosecond, he thought it was Prowl.

But it was not. This mech was clearly a Decepticon.

How had Ratchet missed his approach?

Perhaps it was because the medic was stressed, low on fuel, and had not been able to recharge since he got there. Not a good combination when one's mental strength was about to be tested.

Ratchet just hoped he would not break. He tried to physically distance himself from the situation, pressing himself against the wall as the black and white mech drew closer.

Seeing the medic's reaction, Barricade snickered. It was time to push the Autobot a little bit.

"What's wrong, Medic?" he sneered. "We haven't even done anything yet."

"I'm not afraid of you," the Autobot replied sharply.

Barricade laughed. "I never said you were." Then he walked up to the seemingly testy mech, removing the chains from his arms and torso.

"What are you doing?" Ratchet asked, alarmed.

"Cutting you loose. We're gonna go for a little walk."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ratchet insisted.

"It's not your choice!" Barricade snapped back, glaring at the medic. "Move. _Now_."

Reluctantly, Ratchet pushed himself to his feet. His joints creaked in protest, having been stationary for so long, but the medic hardly noticed. He kept most of his attention on the Decepticon in front of him.

Barricade shifted his weight, turning toward the door. He motioned for the Autobot to go first.

When Ratchet hesitated, Barricade pushed him forward. "Always a stubborn one, aren't we?"

The medic rounded on him, his optics casting an icy blue glow in the dim light. "As if you would know!"

Pain flared across Ratchet's sensory grid as the Decepticon struck him hard in the abdominal plating, leaving the medic doubled over and coughing violently.

"Ready to behave now?" Barricade asked when Ratchet finally looked up at him. The Autobot was still clutching his midsection, but had stopped coughing. He said nothing in response.

"You can make this easy or you can make it hard," Barricade continued. "The choice is yours, but you _will_ do what I say."

Ratchet only glared weakly, agitated but unable to put up much of a fight.

What Barricade did not see was Ratchet's well-concealed fear, bordering on panic, and his silent vow to protect those he cared about, no matter the cost.

Straightening, Ratchet turned to face the Decepticon. "What is it you want me to do?"

… … …

Ironhide deliberately chose the mountainous terrain to help conceal himself. He darted between the rocks, doing his best to stay out of sight.

The black warrior had finally made it out of Iacon, even if it had taken longer than he would have liked. That blasted device of Prowl's was still having an effect on him.

Ironhide had not even transformed out of vehicle mode, not just for speed but also for fear of not being able to maintain his balance. As it was, he felt so distracted that he had a hard time navigating.

If he could just focus for a breem... Maybe it would help if he stopped to rest for a little while. He was far enough from the Autobots now, that he should be able do so without worrying.

Ironhide slowed down behind one of the larger rocks, assuming that its size would afford him some shelter from the wind and provide good cover in case anyone came nearby.

Once he was parked comfortably, the weapons specialist turned off his engine and tried to relax. He did not want to recharge, just calm himself enough to think clearly. He had been anxious for several joors now, and it was not doing him any good.

Whatever had happened, had happened. There was no reason to worry about it now.

Ironhide idly wondered what the Autobots were doing. Were they following him, or not? Maybe they were going to let him go. Or... not pursue him, he should say. It was not like they had just let him out.

He also wondered what they would have done with him, if he had simply cooperated. He would have been curious to know.

But it did not matter anymore. He was here now, and that was all that mattered.

Ironhide looked out over the sand, silently contemplating where he would go from there.


	9. Night

"What is it you want me to do?"

Silence prevailed as the Autobot and Decepticon faced each other. Through the subdued lighting of the brig, Barricade eyed the medic shrewdly, trying to determine the best way to obtain the information he needed. It should not be that hard, assuming that the Autobot knew the answer.

The Decepticon enforcer noted that the medic looked particularly weary then, and so he decided that he might as well try getting straight to the point. "It's quite simple, really," he explained. "I want you to tell me where Ironhide is."

"He's in Iacon," Ratchet answered, surprised that the Decepticons had not assumed as much. "You would know that already if you had contacted Optimus."

Barricade chuckled lightly. It appeared that things were going to get interesting. "Iacon, huh?"

"That's right."

"Ah, there's just one problem with that story," Barricade replied, keeping his voice even and free of accusation. "We did contact your leader, and he says Ironhide isn't there."

What? That did not make any sense... Ratchet hesitated before responding, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I think you might. We know that Ironhide was injured in the Badlands, and we know that your team was there. You were probably assigned to his treatment," Barricade stated, walking behind the Autobot. "I find it a bit difficult to believe that you wouldn't know _anything_ about it."

Ratchet looked down at the floor, trying hard to stay where he was with the Decepticon creeping around behind him. "Yes, I was there," he admitted, "and I did treat him. But like I told you, he should still be in Iacon."

"Your comrades say he escaped," Barricade said. "Do you think that's possible?"

Ratchet huffed, exasperated. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Ironhide is good at what he does, but in all likelihood he is still recovering from some very serious injuries," The Decepticon pointed out as he walked back in front of the medic, then stopped to face him. "Would his medical condition have allowed it?"

"I would say so," Ratchet answered, determining that the information was not sensitive in any way. "He was recovering quickly."

The black and white mech seemed to believe him. "All right, Medic, I'll go along with that." Then Barricade paused, but after a moment he continued speaking. "So tell me, did you have to restrain him? Was he a threat to you or your team?"

"We restrained him as a standard precaution," Ratchet detailed. "But no, he did not show any signs of becoming violent."

"Supposedly, he assaulted two Autobots."

That gave Ratchet pause. "Whom?" he asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter," the Decepticon said, stepping back to give Ratchet some space since the mech was cooperating. "What I want to know is who's lying. You, or your team?"

The medic looked genuinely confused. "I don't follow..."

Barricade crossed his arms, appearing mildly irritated now. "Either you know more about Ironhide's whereabouts than you let on, or your superiors know where he is and they don't intend to share that information with us."

"Or perhaps he just escaped on his own," the medic countered. "Ironhide is a skilled mech. You said it yourself."

"Perhaps he did, but don't you find the timing to be a little too... convenient?"

"Convenient for whom?"

"For the Autobots," Barricade replied. "From their perspective, it would be quite strategic to keep Ironhide in custody. They could have simply relocated him, without any intention of telling us or negotiating his exchange for yours."

"Optimus would let him go, if it meant saving one of his own."

"Are you sure about that?" Barricade questioned.

The medic had no doubt. "Yes, I am."

"How can you be certain that your leader's story is not just some kind of clever ruse, one that he simply would not want you to find out about?"

"Because he's not like that," Ratchet asserted, shifting his weight and removing his hand from his abdomen. "We're not like that."

"So you're saying there isn't the slightest chance that he would keep some information from his own mechs, even if it was for the greater good?"

"No..."

The medic sounded a little less sure of himself now. That was what Barricade wanted, to make him doubt everything he thought he knew. He pushed harder. "Do you think he tells you everything?"

The Autobot did not respond, only met Barricade's gaze with stubborn silence.

"Look at it this way," Barricade continued, trying a different approach. "You are a field medic, while Ironhide is a commanding officer who specializes in weapons tech and military strategy. Perhaps your leader doesn't find your expertise to be quite so valuable."

Ratchet narrowed his optics, clearly taking offense from that statement. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"I'm not telling you what to believe," the Decepticon responded coolly. "I'm just suggesting that you look at all the angles, and draw conclusions for yourself."

… … …

Ironhide's systems whirred quietly, running at only half capacity. The idle mech did not even realize that he had fallen into recharge until he woke up—at dusk the following orn.

Frag, that had never happened before. He must have been more tired than he thought. He quickly scanned for any indications of someone having been there during his period of... incognizance.

Finding no signs of intruders, the weapons specialist let out a contented sigh. He felt like he could recharge for a few more cycles, but he knew he had been there too long already. It was time get moving.

After all, he wanted to do most of his traveling while it was dark, and it would be dark soon.

Ironhide fired up his engine, running another diagnostic to make sure that all of his necessary systems were operational and no critical errors were present. His HUD notified him of only one potential concern.

_Energon levels below normal. Perforation detected in left lateral fuel rail._

An energon leak? Scrap... That damaged line must not have completely sealed itself. As soon as he could, he would probably need to patch it.

At least it was just a slow leak. His reserves should be able to compensate for it until then.

Ironhide shuddered, attempting to shake off the sand that had accumulated on his vehicle mode, then he slowly rolled forward and stopped. Everything seemed fine.

It would have to be. He had a lot of ground to cover, and limited options if something went wrong. He did not even have any basic first aid supplies with him, or a way to contact anyone...

But the Decepticon warrior had survived far worse. A solo trip without the ability to call for backup would hardly be the most difficult thing he had ever done. He would just take it slow, and be careful not to overtax his systems.

_Slow and steady wins the race..._

Or at least, it would this time.

Ironhide pulled away from the rock that had sheltered him throughout the daylight joors, taking off toward the open desert. However, even though he was going a bit slower than he normally would, he had to decelerate as soon as his tires hit the deeper sand and started slipping.

Ironhide hated sand. It was hard to get enough traction on it, and it stuck to everything.

Not unlike the sticky residue left by Prowl's Investigator Special. It was going to take a while for Ironhide to get all of that off.

Or maybe the sand would wear it away...

_Yeah, right. And scraplets are soft and fuzzy._

Shifting his focus to something important, Ironhide realized that the side effects from the stun blast were gone. He actually felt a lot better.

_About time_, the weapons specialist thought. It would be much easier for him to navigate, and remain aware of his surroundings, now that he was not so distracted. That was good, because he did not want any surprises along the way. The last thing he needed was to run into any Autobots or Decepticons.

Shifting his attention to something else again, Ironhide looked out at the vast mountain range off in the distance. That was where he would go next—it was isolated, and he could follow it almost all the way to Kaon. It would be a little faster to cut across the desert, but the Decepticon commander was not going to make that mistake again.

Or... had it been a mistake?

Ironhide could think of no reason why his team would want to eliminate him. There had to be another explanation. But what? Had his telemetry been off?

No, that did not really seem possible. Ironhide knew the area like the back of his hand, and even if his navigation system had malfunctioned or failed, he would have known about it. And he most certainly would not have gotten lost. Besides, he had known where he was the entire time.

So what else could have caused the accident?

Perhaps Starscream had placed the landmine there by mistake, like Ironhide had originally suspected. The gray Seeker could be foolish at times and had been known to act without forethought, so it did not seem that unlikely. Did he even know that Ironhide would occasionally cut across that area?

Or had Megatron ordered him to place the device there? If so, it was against Decepticon regulations. Could it be possible that the lord high protector had resorted to such dishonorable methods, attempting to outwit the Autobots but potentially injuring nuetrals or even his own mechs?

The latter scenario did not seem very likely, yet Ironhide could not help but wonder if what Jazz said was true. Did the visored mech really have evidence to prove it, or was he lying?

Either way, Ironhide was going to find out.

… … …

Ratchet was getting upset. He knew he should have tried harder not to, and that Barricade was baiting him, but he was tired and flustered and just could not help it, and Barricade's absurd suggestion only made it worse. "I don't need to draw any conclusions," the medic hissed.

"Easy, now," the Decepticon replied in an obviously insincere attempt to pacify the other mech. "There's no need to get touchy. I'm just offering you a little advice."

That only aggravated Ratchet more. "As if I need any advice from the likes of you," he commented sharply.

Barricade glared at him. "Don't get smart with me, Medic."

Ratchet raised his voice, his posture becoming more aggressive. "Why the Pit not? You're probably going to terminate me anyway!"

"Keep it up, and I just might!"

Ratchet yelped in surprise and pain as Barricade grabbed him by the shoulders and slammed him into the back wall. Then the Decepticon held him there, pushing him harder and causing the medic to grunt as his fluorescent armor scraped against the rough surface of the concrete.

"You don't listen very well, Autobot," Barricade sneered, "so let me make this real simple for you."

The black and white enforcer moved one hand from Ratchet's shoulder to the medic's throat, pressing just hard enough to make the Autobot squirm.

"You might be of more value to us alive, but that doesn't mean I would hesitate to teach you some manners," Barricade warned, giving Ratchet one more threatening push. "You would do well to remember that."

Ratchet stared hard at the Decepticon for a moment, then he forcefully shoved him away.

Barricade stumbled back a few steps, having not expected any retaliation, but he quickly regained his footing and turned to face the Autobot.

"So you like making things harder for yourself, Autobot?"

The medic reached up to run a hand along the plating of his neck, checking for any damage. "This isn't about what I like."

"Oh? Then what is it about?"

"If you have to ask, you wouldn't understand."

Barricade growled. "You're a pretty brazen mech considering your current situation, you know that?"

"I can't say I care," the medic retorted.

Barricade actually laughed at that. "Very well, Autobot. I'm willing to overlook your attitude if you tell me something else I would like to know."

"What?"

"If you had the option of working with us on one assignment, in exchange for your freedom afterwards, would you take it?"

Ratchet snorted in indignation. "How could I possibly know that you would stay true to your word?"

"You would just have to trust us."

"I can't say that I do," Ratchet answered honestly.

"Wouldn't it give you a better chance than not cooperating?" the Decepticon asked. "How else are you going to get out of here?"

Ratchet said nothing.

"Don't you even want to know what the assignment would be?"

"No, I don't!" Ratchet snapped, bracing himself for what he was about to do. "So why don't you save yourself the trouble and just leave me alone?"

"Watch your mouth, Autobot!" Barricade glared pointedly at him. "I'm not telling you again."

"What difference would it make? We both know you'll do whatever you want regardless!"

"You want it that way? Fine!" Barricade lashed out at the Autobot, striking him in the chest plating. Ratchet yelped again, the force of the blow denting his heavy armor.

The medic instinctively tried to back away, but found himself thrown to the ground instead. Suddenly Barricade was looming over him, pinning his arms with one hand and digging his taloned claws into the medic's chest with the other.

Ratchet bit back the urge to cry out as the sharp metal nicked several energon lines, and Barricade's grasp tightened to an almost unbearable level. He shuttered his optics, trying to resist the crushing pain he felt over his spark.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, Barricade released his grip, and stepped away from him.

"Consider my offer," the enforcer said, as if nothing had happened. "I'll be back later to check up on you."

The medic watched him leave, waiting for the cell door to close before he slowly and painfully rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow. After panting for a few moments, he activated his medical scanner and checked himself. He could feel energon trickling down his chest plates, so he knew there was at least some damage.

Ratchet did not even need to finish the scan before he realized it was more serious than he thought. His HUD warned him—Barricade had cut a main line.


End file.
